Injections, hormones and pills... oh my.

I wanted to get this down while I was in the thick of it. In less than a week I will be implanted with 2 embryos that are not mine. With as much thought, prayer and time as I've given this decision I am a nervous wreck.

Tonight I started the more serious hormones. I remember whining pretty loudly (sorry everyone) about the effects of the birth control pill on my body, but that was nothing. As I took a pill out of each bottle I saw the pile grow to an intimidating size. The memory of my sweet Intended Mom's recent (and excrucuating) experiences echoed through my head as I took one after the other. I have no idea what kind of toll this will have on me so all I can do is wait.

This is happening. Don't misunderstand me, I'm not having second thoughts about it. After getting to know my Intended Parents even better throughout this process I want nothing more than to make them parents. They've endured so much and have so much love to offer I am honored that they would choose me to be the temporary caretaker of their baby (or babies). I'm just completely terrified. I'm afraid that I won't be able to handle the side effects as well as she did. I'm afraid this won't work and I'll have failed them. I'm afraid that my family will suffer.

Okay, less than a week. Putting on my my big girl panties and taking care of business.

I wanna do it!

This morning I opened the door to the Dude's room as he screamed in frustration from waking up. Sure, I can see how waking up can be frustrating. We walk into the hall where I change his diaper while he screams and demands that Abby do it. Once he is nice and clean, and for absolutely no reason completely happy now, we head into the kitchen for breakfast. He spends 5-10 minutes demanding cookies and I simply eat my breakfast while repeating at least 5 times "no, cookies are a treat why don't we have breakfast instead". Eventually, this message gets through and he chooses a yogurt. I walk to the fridge to get it for him and he falls to pieces like I'd just thrown all of his cars in the trash. "I do it!". The next 7 minutes he spends crying in front a now opened (by him) refrigerater. The yogurts are still in the box. Crap. He doesn't let me anywhere near the fridge but screams because he doesn't want to open it and he sure and heck doesn't want me to do it. At this point I'm screaming in my head and I just open the box and set the yogurt on the shelf. Falls to pieces. I sit down and continue eating. He finally chooses a yogurt and brings it to the table. He can't open it. Crap. Again, I'm not allowed within a 2 foot radius of his breakfast. He screams, I scream internally, we both are on the verge of a breakdown. I open it a tiny bit then start to talk about waffles. He is distracted enough to open it on his own. He screams when I give him the waffle he asked for.

This is breakfast now, just a taste of what life is like in the "I wanna do it"
phase. Everything takes 10 times longer than it used to, which took 10 times longer than it should. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I'm trying to be optimistic. I'm trying to see that this is ultimately a step toward their independence but I'm about to lose my mind.

Holy smokes, I think I'm a runner.

If you'd told me a year ago that I would learn to love running I would have laughed in your face and called you a dirty dirty liar. I've always been pretty active but in the past I've thought of runners as a different breed of people with which I had absolutely nothing in common. Then came the warrior dash.

To be perfectly honest when I was first introduced to the Warrior Dash by my dear friend Amy it looked kinda fun but I had accepted that I'd likely be power walking the whole time. After we'd signed up I went into full Warrior Training Mode which included hiking, 30 day shred and the occasional jogging against my will with Amy. As the race was getting closer I began to feel a little ambitious and started hiking way more than any person with 3 kids really should and sometimes with one of those 3 kids on my back. With many hiking and Jillian Michaels hours under my belt I was ready to take on the Dash... until Amy's husband reminded her (and me) that I couldn't run and this obstacle course was essentially a race. Crap. In order to help her husband rest easy I decided to go out for one last run before the dash with her and see how it went. I ran almost 3 miles and I couldn't believe it. I ran 3 miles VERY slowly but I ran them! From that point I thought that while I didn't like running, at least I knew that I could.

I had an amazing time on our Warrior trip all thanks to a Clipboard o' fun provided by our cruise director. After, though, I didn't have goals. Nothing to look forward to, nothing to work toward. I chose something that challenged me, running. I started small, 2-3 miles and did that for about a month a few times a week.... then every day. Next thing I know I am running faster than I was before but no further. I set a goal for myself; 5 miles. That was all I wanted. Nearly a month ago another friend of mine got an idea for us moms to get active together once a week. The first week would be walking the track at the middle school. I showed us about a half hour or so early and decided to do a little running before they arrived to do some power walking. I didn't pay to close attention to the distance but my phone was keeping track. When they'd arrived I'd reached a little over 4 miles and decided to go for it... and I did! Since then I rarely run less than 5 miles and do so almost every day. I spend the majority of my run time smiling because I genuinely love it. I was unlucky enough to get shin splints recently and I was in agony when I couldn't run. I'd see a runner and wish I could take their place, just a few miles! At this point it is safe to say I'm a runner and I never in a million years would have expected it.


Thanks Amy :)

My Surrogacy

I've had a lot more people express concern over my decision to carry someone else's baby than I expected. I was prepared for nay-sayers I guess, but I didn't realize that a majority of them would react in that way because they loved me. I also found that I received overwhelming support from those who loved me as well but also understood how much this meant to me.

I think it is important for me to share why I am doing this. Yes, I'm getting paid. That is at the bottom of my very long list of reasons, however. It is by pure dumb luck that I am as fertile as I am. When I was in my early 20's I discovered that I had endometriosis and it was quickly removed with surgery. Between the time I'd heard this and the surgery I couldn't help but wonder what this would mean for me when I was ready to be a mother. Would I have trouble? What if I never had children? Was it something I'd done? When a woman's body doesn't do what it is supposed to it is difficult not to feel broken and guilty. ABout six years later, after literally only one try, Logan and I became pregnant with our little Abby. A year after she was born I was pregnant again with twins. Needless to say, my infertility fears were long gone. In their place I felt so much guilt. For whatever reason I was as fertile as they come and I would hear stories of women who endured great physical and financial hardship just to have the chance at motherhood. To this day my heart aches for those women because I want to take that pain away so badly. That is what I'm doing. The couple I'm carrying for are some of the most kind, loving and deserving people I've ever met. I will spend the next 10 months doing whatever it takes to ensure that they are able to know the joy of parenthood. It won't be easy, I'll throw up a lot, and my kids will spend more time watching Super Why than I'd like but in the end two people will be changed forever and a little person (or two) will be welcomed into a home where he or she will be loved completely. Believe me when I say that what I give up while pregnant is nothing compared to what will be gained. I know I'm taking risks and I'm terrified, but no more of a risk than I'd take having a fourth child... that I do not want to do.

To those who worry, don't. To those who understand, thank you. To those who think it is wrong.... my body, my choice.